Tiras Serul

”Oh gods!” Alazne cried out as she climaxed again, her huge, perfect boobs bouncing up and down while her heart-shaped ass dug itself deeper into the mattress underneath her and girlcum gushed out of her pussy.

On top of her, Tiras kept on ploughing into her, gritting his teeth at how her convulsing honey pot was hugging his sixteen-inch monster as he buried it inside her and at the mounting pressure in his bulls balls as the two beefy orbs kept smacking against the curvature of Alazne’s gorgeous bubble butt.

He’d met her about six hours earlier, just as he had arrived at the Tharros inn where the young brunette was working as a waitress. It was his first evening ever in the city, and this particular inn, the Bow and Anchor, was located in the neighbourhoods where the Harbour District blended in with the Artisans’ Quarters. He’d heard of the Kettle of course, it was one of the main reasons why he’d come to Tharros, but that evening he’d been tired from the long sea voyage, and so had sought out an inn in what he’d been told was a much quieter part of the city. Of course, the inn had still been packed with people, both those there for a room and those who were there only for a drink or two with their mates, and the two prettier waitresses had both been very busy taking care of the customers.

And there had been Alazne, who seemed like she was much less popular than her two colleagues, which most of the patrons would rather have come to their tables. It wasn’t that Alazne wasn’t pretty, Tiras had thought, but rather that her slight and slender frame wasn’t as eye-catching as the curves that the other two barmaids were blessed with. While the two of them had filled out their white blouses and burgundy skirts quite nicely, the same outfit had merely hung off of the flat-chested, flat-assed Alazne. And while her big blue eyes should have made her a beauty, the pock-marks that were present on Alazne’s cheeks made her less attractive that she would otherwise have been.

Still, Tiras had made sure that Alazne was the barmaid handling his orders all throughout the night, and had been very conscientious about saying something friendly to her each time that she delivered him another tankard of ale. Eventually, she’d started to linger at his table after bringing him his orders, and as the customers began to dwindle in number as the night wore on, she had finally ended up sitting at his table. Their conversation had been a pleasant one, and Tiras had been thrilled to find that Alazne proved to be every bit as charming as he’d hoped her to be, with an expressive and excited body language to compliment the spirited and engaging manner with which she spoke.

They’d remained at his table up to the time that the last of the other patrons had cleared out. After the two other barmaids had left as well, he helped her close the bar. Next, she’d given him a nervous look and asked if he didn’t want to come up with her to her room, and then broken out into a happy smile when he’d told her that he would.

What Alazne hadn't known when she’d brought Tiras to her room, what he was careful not to tell anyone about, was that he wasn’t like other men.

A dozen years ago, Tiras had been an unhappy student at an old, semi-legendary magic academy located in a hidden valley up in the Circassian mountains. Coming from the small and poor, but fiercely independent kingdom of Ezra, which was further east of the Circassians, Tiras had always dreamed about being a warrior-type figure like his father and his older brothers. Of course, that dream had been frustrated by the fact that Tiras was hopelessly physically awkward, with his eye-hand coordination seeming to have vanished completely somewhere around the onset of puberty, and he’d had always been quite pudgy at that. So it should have been a great moment in his life when, at age fourteen, it had been discovered that Tiras possessed a great potential for spellcasting, and he had been brought to the academy. However, Tiras never found much pleasure in it. Power didn’t much interest him, and studying spells wasn’t something that appealed to him either.

However, his raw talent meant that he was able to keep up with his fellow students, although his shyness meant that they never accepted him, leaving him to lead out a boring, lonely life at the academy. Running away from the academy wasn’t a good idea, as semi-trained sorcerers were considered extremely dangerous to the rest of the world, on account of them knowing enough to able to manipulate the fabric of time and space but not enough to fully control said manipulation. Hence, runaway sorcerers were hunted down, either to be brought back to the academy, or to be executed on the spot.

Finally, soon after he’d turned twenty-five, and while he still had at least five years left before leaving the academy, Tiras had stumbled upon an ancient tome in the section of the academy’s library that students were not supposed to access, and in it he had found the route to a spellforge, a sort of catalyst that would make the crafting of new spells much easier than what was normally the case.

Since the creation of a brand new spell was how a student demonstrated that he was fully learnt and ready to become a sorcerer, the tale of the spellforge was a blessing to Tiras, who was young and foolish, as well as **** to get out of the academy as soon as possible. He’d travel there, return to the academy, show them that he’d created a new spell, and then be allowed to leave and go on with his life. He wasn’t going to become a real sorcerer anyway, instead planning to return to Ezra and spend the rest of his days as a healer, since he knew those kinds of spells well enough already.

The fact that the spellforce was located in Heimarike meant that Tiras had to travel pretty much straight across Erodoria, north across the seemingly endless plains before finally reaching the forests and rolling hills of the newly formed countries of Reidenland and Skerland, and then he had finally reached the dark, sparsely populated woods of Heimarike. When he finally found the spellforge in the mountains in the far northern part of Heimarike, Tiras had been on the move for more than two years, the duration of his journey having been dramatically elongated by the fact that he really had no money to pay his way. At the same time, the life that he’d led for those two years meant that he’d finally become more like the rest of his family, with a good deal of fat having turned into muscles and his general agility no longer being so poor that he was in danger of tripping on his own legs every time that he tried to run.

Due to the sense of physical inadequacy that had dominated him pretty much his entire life, Tiras had already planned what the spell that he’d create would focus on: body manipulation. Once he’d climbed his way into the deep, narrow gorge that the spellforge was located in and stepped into the faint circle in the rock at the bottom of it that the forge consisted of, Tiras had begun formulating the spell, feeling the air rush violently around him and hearing the sound of thunder from far above him as he conjured up the energy needed to turn his fantasies into reality and wrestled to control that same energy. At last, after worrying a little about having brought about the end of the world, Tiras finally felt his body begin to change.

Minutes later, and Tiras had grown to stand more than six feet tall, with an immensely powerful physique to go along with his increased height, and the muscles that he’d given himself being so dense and heavy that he slumped at first before becoming used to them. Beyond that, Tiras had blessed himself with ruggedly handsome looks as well, though he’d kept his hair brown and his eyes blue. Of course, being twenty-seven years old and never even having seen a woman naked meant that Tiras was also quite frustrated on a sexual level, and this revealed itself in the fact that he’d seen fit to give himself a sixteen-inch cock and a pair of beefy, heavy balls.

Pleased that the spell had worked, if slightly embarrassed at how immature he’d been in engaging in some pretty heavy wish-fulfilment, Tiras had climbed out of the gorge and tried to cast the spell again, transforming himself into a shape that was less showy. He hadn't been able to do so though, and it slowly dawned on him that something had gone wrong with the spell. Whereas he had intended for it to bring about temporary changes, his less than perfect control of the archaic languages used in the creation and casting of spells had resulted in the changes becoming permanent. Not wishing to use the spellforge again now that he had an inkling of just how dangerous it was, Tiras had decided to accept the outcome of the spell and to be happy that he hadn't tried transforming himself into something really weird. He’d also been pleased to have arrived at the forge in the summer, since none of his old clothes would fit him anymore.

Three days after he’d left the spellforge, Tiras had stumbled upon a small cottage, the home of a fur trader and subsistence farmer, both common occupations in Heimarike. The trader himself hadn't been home, but his pretty, busty blonde daughter had been. About five minutes after knocking on the door of the cottage, Tiras had lost his virginity.

Six days later, wearing a set of clothes that the woman had provided him with, he’d left the cottage and continued travelling south, leaving the eighteen-year old blonde dangerously close to slipping into a coma brought on by too many orgasms. During those six days, he’d discovered that he could manipulate other people’s bodies as well, and the blonde had happily allowed him to fill out her chest a little, make her butt a bit more bouncy, and take care of a few imperfections such as her teeth.

The journey south had not taken more than a few months, during which Tiras had several more pleasurable encounters with women, all of which were more attractive when he left them than when he had met them, as well as getting his hands on a decent sword, and had ended when he reached his family home in Ezra. His father hadn't recognized him at first, given that they hadn't seen each other in almost fifteen years and that Tiras looked a lot different from when they’d last met, but after he’d convinced him that he was his son, he got to hear about what had happened to the rest of his family. His three brothers had all left the family farm, one of them to take over a small piece of land owned by his wife’s family, the other two to become mercenaries abroad, while his mother had died four years ago.

Then his father had told him about what had happened to the academy. When the Jadhi revolt against the Malawans had broken out, and that Tiras had heard about as he’d travelled north, the academy had declared its support for the revolt, giving it some much needed assistance in return for future influence, or at least that was what Tiras’ father guessed was their reason for doing what they did. However, the Malawans had concentrated a large portion of their own sorcerers and sent them east, bringing a large army along to support them as they moved towards the academy. Once they’d reached it, a horrific battle had been fought. The battle didn’t end until both sides were virtually wiped out, the academy had been destroyed, and the valley in which it had lain transformed into a nightmarish landscape of glass and ash.

Now doomed to be a renegade sorcerer for the rest of his life, Tiras had pledged to get **** for the few friends that he’d made at the academy, and had spent the next six months learning how to properly use his sword under his father’s tutelage.

Then he’d travelled south into Jadhi territory, letting himself be recruited as a mercenary by the rebels, and had spent the next six years fighting the Malawans, helping to push them further and further west until the vast majority of their kingdom had been liberated. During those six years Tiras partook in dozens of battles and killed hundreds of enemies as he got to live out his childhood dream. The life as a warrior had been far bloodier and bleaker than it had been when he’d fantasized about it, but he’d been fighting for a worthy cause. And the general anarchy and cheerful madness of people slipping free from underneath the grim oppression of the Malawans had been a nice contrast to the fighting, with a great more women entering and exiting his life in rapid order as each new city that was liberated became another wild party for the next few days or weeks.

After that, Tiras had travelled across southern and central Erodoria for the next few years. Taking on jobs as a mercenary whenever he needed money, he had remained largely uninterested in power and wealth, only accumulating enough to live on for a while before moving on.

Throughout all this, Tiras had only used the spells that he knew on a select few occasions. Mostly, it was either when he or someone he knew had gotten hurt and he’d used his healing spells, or when he encountered a woman whose looks weren’t as attractive as her personality and he used that one spell that only he knew about to fix that. Sometimes, months would go by without him using any spells, relying instead on his sword and the other weapons that he’d now mastered, or on his wits and cunning. Occasionally, he’d use a spell to slow down his ageing.

When he finally arrived in Tharros, Tiras looked much the same as he had when he’d left the spellforge, though he now appeared to be in his early thirties and had collected a few scars, the most notable of which was the three inches long one that ran horizontally underneath his left ribs. He carried a straight, long sword of the kind that was prominent amongst his kin in Ezra, though this particular one had been a gift from general Mirza al-Vahan, and was dressed in a simple mixture of Ezran and Jadhi clothing that consisted of a thin white tunic, the most commonly worn garment by Jadhi men, with the rugged brown trousers and sturdy brown ankle boots worn by Ezran farmers and warriors. The only expensive article of clothing that he possessed was his dark green cloak made from Mizraki cotton.

A few hours later, Alazne celebrated her last orgasm for the night by passing out once it had faded away, her upper body slumping forwards onto the bed even as Tiras was pumping his latest load into her bowels, the whole of his cock being buried past her ringpiece while his balls were nestled against her slit and had her girlcum dripping off them.

Once he’d finished cumming, Tiras had extracted his cock from Alazne’s ass and lifted her up. Her room wasn’t very large, but there was a chair in it that he gently placed her in before proceeding to tidy up her bed by getting rid of the soaked sheets and turning over the mattress. He then carried her back to the bed and found a blanket, placing it over her and slipping in underneath it to lie beside her.

As Alazne curled up next to him and purred happily in her sleep, Tiras decided that he was probably going to like Tharros, then drifted off to sleep.